


Invincible

by h_itoshi



Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Just another stress relieving drabble, M/M, With some fluff and sleeping cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/pseuds/h_itoshi
Summary: Kento hates feeling fragile, like anyone can hurt him and there are no defenses to hide behind.
Relationships: Kikuchi Fuma/Nakajima Kento
Kudos: 22





	Invincible

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't have much to say about this besides I'm upset with myself I haven't written anything sz in like a year so. At least this is something?

Kento rarely feels fragile anymore. Not like he did when his classmates ignored him. Not like when he was put in the center of attention and people called him fake. Not like when his group was split apart.

He hates feeling fragile, like anyone can hurt him and there are no defenses to hide behind.

These days, he’s an adult, he’s successful and he can be himself. Be extravagant and too much and corny and annoying. People love him for that. But sometimes, something happens, and he’s right back there, 13 years old and silently crying in a bathroom stall in order not to let anyone see that they get to him. Back with the panic tightening his insides so much he clutches at his stomach and gasps for breath, the panic of being forgotten, annoying, in the way. Too much.

He sees the looks of senpai when they think he’s overdoing it, and Kento goes home and overthinks it until he can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t do anything besides wish he could take back something he said or did.

Until it finally passes, and he can go back to smiling, to returning sharp words with nice ones and speak whatever cheesy thing his mind comes up with. He’s generally happy now, but those moments of fragility still hit him, and he hates them.

It’s 02:56 and he keeps staring at the time passing on the digital alarmclock, tries to will time to go slower, to pause because he needs to sleep in order to get up tomorrow. Wants to sleep. But his thoughts keep churning in his head, the harsh comment from his director echoing at the back of the mess of terrible memories that always resurface once anxiety opens the door. And he’s nowhere near sleep.

But then there’s shifting next to him, and Kento freezes, thinking that he can’t breathe too loudly, can’t tense too much. Can’t wake Fuma because he needs to sleep even more than Kento does. But then he feels warmth, Fuma’s bare chest a little sweaty against his back, and the arm that lazily drapes over Kento’s waist is comforting.

There’s a soft sigh against the base of Kento’s neck, hair tickling against his vertebrae, and his body reacts autonomously. His heartrate slows, his breathing calms, and the worst panic evens out to a low, rumbling anxiety. He draws a deep, slow breath, searching out Fuma’s limp hand and carefully threads their fingers together as he leans back into the embrace. Fuma’s fingers subconsciously tighten around Kento’s holding his hand, and Kento draws another deep breath, the anxiety subsiding a little more with every exhale.

He doesn’t feel that fragile anymore.


End file.
